


To Frustrate A Sky (or Two)

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - HomeSky/WarSky, Cloudy Hayato (Reborn!), M/M, Varia Trident Shamal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: In which Xanxus has been hiding that he's a Home Sky - and Tsuna's his War Sky.





	To Frustrate A Sky (or Two)

He looks down from his perch on the cliff at Iemitsu’s brat, and it takes every bit of self-control he has - and he has self-control, no matter what his ‘father’ thinks - not to blink, because his Flames want the brat. Want the brat to protect him, and was it his fault that he’d taken refuge with his Nona and listened to her and Tiberia’s stories? That he knew what wanting that from another Sky meant? He’d fight those desires tooth and nail though, because he didn’t bottom, and he didn’t need protecting, damnit!

He starts to lash out, charging his X-guns, and he’d annihilate the brat before he’d lay underneath him, but Iemitsu’s fucking pickaxe carves a line in the earth, and had he known his brat was a War-Sky? Was this yet another attempt to manipulate him by the blonde idiot?

He refused to be a Home-Sky - real men didn’t, ugh, - and had carved himself into a War-Sky, or at least a practical facsimile of one, and done such a good job that as he’d hit puberty that none of the unattached Skies that glittered and hunted for their matches within the Vongola Alliance had looked him as anything other than a sparring partner and competition. He had _almost_ regretted it when Dino Cavallone started morphing into an actually competent War!Sky under Reborn’s tuition rather than a disgrace to the Cosa Nostra, but then he’d been distracted by finding out that his ’father’ wasn’t his blood father, and eight years of being frozen. And now to find that Iemitsu’s brat was his War-Sky - he wanted to kill someone. Anyone.

He’d settle for a Cervello or two, and then any CEDEF moron he could catch, if he couldn’t kill the brat now. Or perhaps he’d kidnap and corrupt Iemitsu’s little bastard; Squalo could do with a new chew toy. Before he can raise his X-gun and find out whether the Cervello are as fake as they look, there’s an overwhelming wash of Rain Flames, and he wants to growl at his swordsman and throw him off the cliff and into the brat posse for interfering in his emotional state. The shark knew better than to do that unless it was an emergency. He turns his head, and the shark taps his wrist - Varia-sign for Vindice presence; his shark had far more acute senses than he did - and does his damnedest to ignore Iemitsu and simmer down long enough to get out of the public eye. Perhaps he’d make the shark spar with him, or declare a grand brawl tonight and vent fury that way.

* * *

“Voooiii! What the fuck were you thinking, shitty-Boss?” He twitches his fingers, lazily spinning a ball of Wrath Flames into existence in the palm of his hand, and his shark makes a noise in the back of his throat, going abruptly still. 

“You have Skies in the wider Family, don’t you, Shark-trash?” He sees his senior Rain’s mind start to put the pieces together; while he couldn’t put names to the Superbi Skies - they preferred to keep a low profile - if any of the families would be good about finding their Skies compatible partners, the Superbi were the most likely candidate. “Not asking who, or how many, but I assume you - the Family, I mean, trash - have at least one bonded pair?”

“Two. We have two. My older brother is part of one.” He blinks. His Rain had an older brother?! The Shark narrowed his eyes and looked at him. “Voooiii! Shitty-Boss, if you’re trying to tell me you’re a Home-Sky, I already knew. You’re far too fucking prone to nesting to be anything else.” He throws the ball of Flames at his Rain and they splash harmlessly against the man, which just raises his ire; that hadn’t been why he’d taught Squalo that trick. Rain Flames curl in the room, and he glares at him even as he melts into a relaxed puddle. “Was it the baby-brat or the CEDEF twat that made you think about being a Home-Sky, shitty-Boss -” He throws a bottle at his Rain; it takes almost more willpower than he has. “Voooiii. I was joking about the blonde cretin. At least the baby-brat’s pretty to look at, and has a tasty enough looking Rain of his own for me to play with.”

“Why are you so fucking calm about this, shark-trash.”

“Voooiii. War Skies keep their Home happy, shitty-Boss. That’s their fucking job; so fucking what that you’ll have to bend over for the shitty-baby-Sky at least once. You get the Family for it, and can be sure any brats are yours.” He makes a rude gesture at his Rain. “Think how pissed off Iemitsu’ll be if you talk his brat into sitting in your lap in meetings, and given the way the shitty-baby-Sky looked at him, he hates the bastard just enough to do it, too.”

* * *

He fights deliberately messily, shedding Flames all over the place as he soars over the school - the territory of one of the two Clouds circling his shitty War Sky, and given how easily the Cloud’s Flames had given way to his, interested in being _his_ Cloud - and plays with his War Sky. (He trusts his own - none of whom were half so injured as they were pretending to be - to test and rescue his War-Sky’s Guardians; it would give them a chance to assess their personalities and their training.) They dance around each other, climbing higher and higher until he feels that they’re out of range of his old man’s weakened senses, and then stops. Abruptly.

“So, trash. You’ve seen how shittily your old man and mine behave. Want another option?”

“What are you offering me, Xanxus?” The brat’s far calmer than he’d have expected, but with that Flame dancing on his forehead, it’s understandable, but not actually conducive to make rational decisions, and he wants to shoot the damn tutor that’s taught him such bad habits.

“Skies should come in pairs, trash; your father and mine in part are fucked up because they never found theirs. But we’re compatible. And you wouldn’t have to deal with the Underworld side of the Family; just the legitimate side of things.”

“And? What do you get from being my, uh, partner?” The brat is hovering closer, and he holsters his pistols and hums in amusement at the surprised squeak from him about the fact he’s still airborne. What the fuck had Reborn even been teaching the kid?

“The Family. And well, you’ll find out.”

“What do you need from me, Xanxus?”

“Your Flames, brat. We’ve got some work to do to avoid our old men trying to stop us.” The brat hesitates for a moment, and the brat makes a strangled noise.

“I can’t. The Seal -” His temper flares, and the brat cowers for a moment, before his spine straightens. “- I’m willing. I don’t _want_ to be Don. I want what’s mine to be safe.”

“Then we can do this, brat. Hold still; this might feel funny.” It wouldn’t be the first he’d destroyed one of his old man’s Seals; it was how he’d acquired Lussuria and Bel after all. It’s one of the more insidious Seals he’s seen, with some of the blond bastard’s Flames reinforcing it, but he’s a Wrath, and the brat’s _his_ War Sky, and it doesn’t stand a fucking chance.

“Oh gods, that feels better.” The brat folds out of Hyper Dying Will Mode and he has to catch him before he drops more than a kilometre out of the Sky. “Whatcha need me to do to make’em leave us’alone?”

“Need to weave our Skies together, trash. Don’t fight me.” It takes all of the patience he has to weave their Flames together; this would be so much fucking easier if he could just stick his cock in the brat, but their dynamic was wrong for that. “There we go. Follow my lead trash, copy my Flames -”

* * *

His father eyes him from his wheelchair, and he smiles smugly, projecting the perfectly crafted War-Sky persona, and Tsuna follows his lead and the trash is touching him when he puts the Ring on. The Flames surge around the pair of them, and he shields his War Sky from the scene and resolves to scold his predecessors for their choice; he recognised it from Daniela’s stories, and it wouldn’t have had the desired impact if Reborn hadn’t shared the Family’s history. And given how much else he’d failed to teach, he doubted that this incident had featured.

“He’s not been schooled in the Family’s history.” The brat’s head is buried in his shoulder, Flames rolling beneath his skin. “All he sees is the bloody violence. He doesn’t know how many of them fought with their Dying Wil, to allow Daniela to escape and keep the Resistance function; there were five Latent Skies fighting over the fate of Europe, and that she and her War Sky were the best hope to keep our people from being consumed.”

“But he was supposed to be educated in the Family’s history -” his grandmother slaps her son, and he releases his War Sky, confident that Tsuna was safe from being traumatised further. He’d have to ensure he was blooded, but that was something they could work up to, could lay out the way that the man he’d have him kill had made the Family vulnerable and what the costs of that vulnerability would be; Viper would help with that, and perhaps he’d cash in one of the favours that Aria owed him to make things realistic.

“- clearly he wasn’t, and Xanxus, he is neither my son nor your father; he’s rewritten history to suit himself.” His War Sky curls into his side, and he’s amused by the way he’s already trusting him; he supposed it was the way their Flames had merged. “I had two children with my _wife_ , and both of them were daughters, for obvious reasons.”

There’s amused laughter from the direction of the throne, and the other Dons separate to reveal what he’d half expected to see, given Daniela’s tale of what she’d seen when she’d put on the ring. The First lounged on the throne, the Second sitting on its pedestal, head leant against Primo’s thigh, and content. “I told you that your lies would come back to bite you, Timoteo.”

“Mmph.” His eyes flick to where his old man was being restrained by the Fourth, and he allows his lips to curve into a smile.

“You’ll keep the Family safe, while Tsunayoshi changes the things that need to be changed, won’t you, young Xanxus?” The question comes from the First.

“How did you make it work?”

“When I left for Japan? We had a very strong Mist that was compatible with both of us. Travelling backwards and forwards was fairly simple.” 

“Daemon?”

“Elena. We faked her death to allow her to escape her father, and Daemon ‘losing’ it was part of the illusion like my vanishing was; I needed to keep our children safe.” He raises an eyebrow, and Primo smiles boyishly. “We gave the kids the option of whether or not they wanted to be part of the Family; eventually I ran Namimori as a refuge, using the money from Italy to expand it and smooth the inclusion of foreigners.”

“I’ll do it.” The brat’s Flames hum in agreement with him. 

“Um, Xanxus, how -”

“The talk about kids, brat? We’ll come to that, but it’s my problem not yours -”

“You said we were partners. That makes it my problem, too, Xanxus.”

“At some point, he’ll unbend enough to let you sink into his flesh with your Flames and kindle a new Flame -” 

The Fifth shakes his head in amusement. “- let Xanxus explain it, Sesto; your euphemisms aren’t going to help, and it’s not as if you had a War-Sky to be bred by.” 

“Hiiieee.” He wraps his arm around his War Sky, pulling him close enough to kiss.

“Don’t worry about it, brat. It won’t happen for a while -”

“- but the idea makes you uncomfortable?” His War Sky tilts his head, looking up at him with amber eyes. He curses softly; he set himself up for that question. “It does, doesn’t it.”

“I’ve never enjoyed the sort of thing he’s talking about.”

“Then we don’t have to do it.” He squeezes his tiny War Sky against his side, relieved by the brat’s words; he’d realised that he’d been half afraid that if he found a War Sky that he’d have to spend most of his time on his back like his mother had. Primo smiled at them, playing with Secondo’s hair, and flared his Flames, changing the space they were in, and the man stands up. 

“Good. I will mark both of your hours on the Ring; rule the Family well, and Tsunayoshi?” His War Sky peeks out from his arms. “I need you to make them all remember how to behave; Xanxus knows what my rules for the Family were, and some members of the Alliance have drifted a long way out of line.”

The world returns, and he smirks at his ‘father’, and at Iemitsu, and kisses his War-Sky; the Ring was whole and he could feel the duplicate on the baby-brat’s hand, a final Seal of approval from the other Dons. The blonde idiot chokes, whining something about his tuna-fishie - a ridiculous nickname - and he rolls his eyes, but his War Sky folds and he’s distracted from making the man have a heart attack by the need to catch him. “Your shitty tutor for the little-Boss hasn’t taught him anything he needs to know.”

“He -”

“Shut up. I don’t care if the Arcobaleno’s been sucking your dick, old man, but he’s a shitty fucking tutor - always has been; my Rain can attest to it - and if he comes near the little-Boss again, I’ll set Viper on him.”

“Xanxus -”

“Mou. It’s time, Boss.” His Mist materialises next to him, all sign of injuries gone. “Want me to bring the little-Boss’s Guardians with us, too?” He nods, and the world dissolves in indigo Flames. His War-Sky squeaks again - adorable fucking sound - as they rematerialise in the Varia mansion, and he flops into his throne, pulling the brat into his lap. 

“You didn’t bring them all, Mammon?”

“Brought the ones that are his.” He hums thoughtfully, and watches the three brats his Mist had brought with them. “The girl has potential; Smoking Bomb has grown since he left Sicily, and has a solid grounding in his mentor’s skills, and the swordsman was good enough to fight Squalo to a standstill.”

“And the others?”

“The Sun is a civilian, and only Guardian to a civilian Sky; the Cloud will be with us within weeks, if he is as interested in you, Boss, as I think he is, and the Lightning is best served with the Mist influence I applied to him so he can grow up civilian; perhaps then he won’t end up as ridiculous as Leviathan is.”

“And why the girl, and not Mukuro?”

“She has potential, and is a better fit for the little-Boss; the Estraneo heir needs intensive and long-term medical attention, whereas she merely needs new internal organs. Given how comfortable she is allowing the Estraneo heir to possess her, the little-Boss will get the best of both worlds.” He strokes a hand down his War-Sky’s side soothingly, and there’s a little shiver that’s definitely not distaste, but nothing he’s going to act on yet. “Do you agree to our assessment, little-Boss?”

“Mhmm.” 

“Are we in Italy?” The question comes from the lithe swordsman who’d managed to kick his own’s ass to the point where Squalo had felt compelled to rescue him from the Cervello’s shitty Shark.

“Well done, trash.”

“Maa, maa.” The boy’s eyes sharpen, and he feels the focus through his War-Sky’s shallow bond with the Rain - he’d have to teach him how to deepen those quickly, before shit got political. “Can I phone tou-san? He’s going to do something Stupid like try to kill Reborn if I don’t.”

“Che. And I should probably contact Shamal, or your shitty old man is going to develop a haemorrhagic fever of some sort.”

“Don’t worry about Shamal. If he kills the old man, he kills the old man; he’s been Varia since before he took you on as an apprentice and I have a private contract on the Ninth.” The Smoking Bomb relaxes. “And you’re his apprentice, so you’ve already got a room here; Shark, do you want the baby-swordsman you rescued in your bed, or in your unoccupied apprentice rooms?”

“Voooiii, Shitty-Boss, I don’t rob cradles!”

“You were the one that said he looked tasty.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not happening, shitty-Shark.”

“Mou. I will put the girl up in my apprentice rooms and have a conversation with her and her … passenger about the costs of training and freedom.”

“So where do I sleep, Xanxus?” His little War-Sky yawned. “Do you have an apprentice -” he cuts Tsuna off with a finger on his lips.

“You sleep with me in my bed, trash. You’re mine and you stay in reach.”

“Just adorable, Boss! I’ll take Duty Officer, and wake up the others so we don’t get a surprise invasion like the Iron Fort did the last time Idiotsu lost it.” He stands up, and his War-Sky makes a squeak; Mammon vanishes with their apprentice’s limp form, and Squalo drags Smoking Bomb and the shitty-Shark’s new apprentice off to find their beds. He pours Tsunayoshi into his bed, and yawns himself, finally coming down from the adrenaline of the Ring Battles, and curls around his new partner.


End file.
